


Shadow of My Wings (Redux)

by J_Spectrum95



Category: RWBY
Genre: Action & Adventure, Begins at Volume 2, Canon Divergent, Eventual Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-02-28 16:30:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13275420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Spectrum95/pseuds/J_Spectrum95
Summary: Fairy Tales. Stories of princesses, magic, mystical beasts, and the worlds they inhabit. But that's it, right? They're just stories that parents tell their kids to get them to sleep at night. Well, that's what 99.9% of the population of Remnant will lead you to believe. You see, some of these stories have a degree of truth to them, some are even completely true. Whether this is a good or bad thing is completely subjective. Now let's get into one tale in particular.(This is a rewrite.)





	1. Prologue

The clicking of heels echoed off the walls of the empty CCT tower as a tall blonde woman made her way to the elevator, tablet in hand as she tapped away at the screen. The only light in the titanic structure being that of the low-power lights that came on during the night and whatever reflected off the shattered moon that hung in the clear night sky above Remnant. A push of the button opened the doors with a ding and the woman stepped inside; doors sliding closed after the button to go upwards was pushed. Green eyes darted to the watch on the woman’s wrist. It was a late night here at Beacon Academy and the first semester of the year was coming to a close soon. The elevator came to the stop at the top of Beacon Academy’s tallest spire and it opened with the typical ding.

“Thank you for coming, Glynda. I apologize this was on such short notice and at this time of night,” Headmaster Ozpin regarded the woman who stepped from the lift and approached his desk.

“I only hope the matter is as important as you made it out to be,” Glynda replied with a bit of annoyance accompanying her words as she spoke.

Ozpin let a smirk tug at his lips before speaking, “Well if you recall, it wasn’t long ago when I spoke to you about a particular individual that could prove to be quite the investment.”

“I do remember. I also remember the explanation containing ambiguity that can only be accomplished by you.”

Ozpin chuckles “Be that as it may, I wasn’t entirely sure if he would accept my offer to come here. No sense in having you devote time to a task and have it all be for naught. Thankfully, I’ve gotten word that he is coming, so I must brief you on exactly who he is and what he is capable of so you may go over the details before it is logged into our student records.”

Glynda’s fingers quickly tapped on the screen of her tablet to open a form for this supposed new student. Her eyes met Ozpin’s to signify that she was ready.

“His name is Raku Ryuukuro,” the Headmaster began.

Before he could continue, Glynda looked up from the screen in front of her, surprise apparent on her face.

“You reached out to the Ryuukuro boy you’ve been watching? Are you sure that’s wise given what he has been up to in recent years?” she questioned.

“I’m confident that I couldn’t have timed my offer any better,” Ozpin affirmed, unwavering.

Glynda sighed “Well if you’re so sure of yourself…” more taps on the tablet followed. “What is his basic information? Age, height, weight, etcetera.”

Ozpin tapped a few keys on the holographic keyboard that appeared before him and a photo of the new student in question appeared on Glynda’s tablet. “He is six-foot-two and one hundred-eighty-five pounds. He is seventeen years old, the typical age for a first-year student.”

Glynda observed the picture that appeared on her screen before typing in the information she was given. This ‘Raku’ boy had a youthful, yet handsome, face. Long black hair fell past his shoulders out of frame. His red eyes were bright with confidence, befitting of the equally confident smile on his lips.

"What about his weapon? I’d rather have not any surprises in my combat classes.”

Ozpin pulled up more pictures, but this time of Raku’s weapon. “His main weapon is a polearm known as a naginata. It doesn’t collapse or transform. The only ranged capabilities it has is that the blade of the weapon is able to be fired and is attached to a chain kept within the shaft. He has a secondary set of weapons stored within the bottom part of the shaft; two straight swords known as chokutō.”

“It doesn’t transform into any sort of ranged weapon such as a firearm? Interesting choice since weapons of that sort become more and more common with each passing generation of Huntsmen and Huntresses. I’m curious to see how he fights to compensate for his apparent lack of range,” Glynda noted as she documented the weapon of the oncoming student.

“I believe you’ll find his fighting style to be adaptable,” Ozpin offered.

“Now, knowing his lineage, and the stories I’ve heard from you, I’m sure I know enough about his semblance, but if you’d like to clari—”

“Actually, Glynda. There is an important trait of his that I’d like to go over before we get into his semblance,” Ozpin cutoff his assistant as he pulled up more pictures.

The expression on the blonde woman’s face was quizzical as she regarded the pictures before her. They were pictures of the tattoos that adorned the young man’s arms. “I fail to see how his tattoos are at all important to us.”

“They’re not just any ordinary tattoos. They have a certain…quality to them.” Ozpin pulled up one more picture of the body art in question, only now they ink was faintly glowing red.

The blonde assistant’s eyebrows scrunched at the observation. “You see, Glynda, they’re _dust_ tattoos.”

“What?”

“Odd, I know. We know about those who choose to infuse dust into their bodies, but in all my years, I can’t say I’ve seen someone do so in such a fashion,” Ozpin said as his own eyes traced the strange ink on the boy’s arms.

“How…how do they work?” Glynda asked simply, still taken aback by what she was seeing.

“Well, firstly, the dust isn’t necessarily _in_ his body. It resides within the ink in his skin, empty and dormant. He can absorb the energy from dust crystals into the dust within his tattoos and use it in cohesion with his semblance, but not without causing him great pain.”

“But why do something so…drastic?” She was bewildered that someone so young would do something that could be so detrimental to them.

“Unfortunately, his whole life has been a laundry list of drastic decisions that were forced upon him. Though admittedly, this one was under his own conviction,” said the Headmaster. “You’re roughly familiar with his semblance, but not with its exact mechanics. To use his breath attack, he must place a dust crystal in his mouth and give his aura time to absorb the energy. With his tattoos, this process is much faster, but like I said, not without a cost. So far, he has only managed to accomplish this absorption into his tattoos with fire and electric dust due to how potent their energies are.”

“Do we know what the long-term repercussions of these tattoos are?”

“Aside from what we know about ‘typical’ techniques of infusing dust with one’s body? No. All we know is that he cannot keep energy stored within his tattoos for long or else it will take its toll on his body,” Ozpin elaborated.

People have been infusing dust with a multitude of things since its discovery. Clothes, weapons, even their own bodies to various results. Surprisingly, dust _tattoos_ have never been a thing, the most surprising thing being that it was even possible in any capacity. Nobody has ever tried to infuse dust with their body in a controlled manner; the term ‘controlled’ being used _very_ loosely. This boy went to these lengths just to be able to use his semblance faster.

Glynda sighed. She was not one to question Ozpin’s decision making, but a small part of her just couldn’t help but doubt. “Are you sure about this?” she asked, levelling the Headmaster with a skeptical gaze.

“Yes. I believe he is exactly what we need.”

“If you say so, then I have no other option but to trust your judgement.”

“Now, onto his semblance. I’ve given you some details on it, but there is still a few more things about it to go over.” Ozpin pulled up some notes on his screen that detailed Raku’s semblance.

 “You know of his breath attack now. He may only use it when he has dust of some sort. He either absorbs the energy with his mouth or tattoos, then expels it out of his mouth.”

“Like a dragon?” Glynda offers unenthusiastically.

“You could say so, it is his namesake after all. Actually, even more than just his namesake…” Ozpin trailed off as he scrolled through his notes.

Glynda raised an eyebrow but Ozpin started again before she could say anything herself.

“Another ability granted to him by his semblance are these wings. They’re not actual wings like you would find on particular types of faunus, but they seem to be generated by his aura. When activated, his aura becomes visible in the form of these wings as they unfurl and billow out from his back. He cannot use them to fly, but he may use them to and propel himself in a certain direction. He may also use them to perform a ranged attack similar to when a fighter channels their aura into their weapon and unleash it in a swing.”

Glynda dutifully entered these notes into her own device as Ozpin rattled them off, making sure to hang on to every detail.

 “Those are the two abilities granted to him by his semblance, but there are a couple of side effects that are worth noting. Firstly, are these scales that appear on his body.” Ozpin pulled up a picture of Raku’s arm. There is a stretch of black scales running from his wrist to his elbow. But they didn’t cover his entire forearm, only a very deliberate area. His tattoos seemed to fade and disappear under the onyx scales

The blonde teacher slightly recoiled at the sight in confusion. “But those scales weren’t visible in those pictures of his tattoos,” Glynda said as she referred back to those photos to make sure she wasn’t losing her mind and somehow missed this glaring detail.

“Correct. That’s because they only appear when he is hit and his aura protects him. This picture—” Ozpin gestured to the picture of the scales, “— was taken just after running a blade over his arm.”

“And they don’t actually do anything? They just show up when he’s struck?”

“Yes. This is simply how his aura manifests when he is hit. He doesn’t gain any extra protection. Typically, when a Huntsman or Huntress uses their aura to protect themselves, there is no apparent evidence of it. For whatever reason, this young man’s semblance causes his aura to act differently.”

“You said there was another effect of his semblance?” Glynda was eager to speed things up a little. This was going to be a lot to unpack and analyze properly.

Ozpin let out an amused chuckle. “This one isn’t anything unique. His eyes. When his semblance is in use, they change and take on this appearance.”

One final picture appeared before Glynda. She was met with the same face before, but his eyes were certainly different. Instead of the confident red from before, she was now met with two burning eyes that shared the yellow-orange color and intense glow of a roaring flame, though that wasn’t even the most notable change. Instead of two round pupils, Glynda felt like she was being bored into by these two narrow slits gazing at her through this photo, but they were definitely not feline in nature. They were more like a serpent’s—a dragon’s.

“Will that be all for tonight?” she asked as she pulled her eyes away from the draconic orbs in the picture.

“Yes. For now. It’s getting late and I don’t wish to keep you any longer.” Ozpin affirmed.

There was a brief moment of silence before Glynda turned and started for the elevator. As the doors slid open, she halted and turned so she may look back at the Headmaster. “You’re absolutely sure about this?”

“As sure as can be,” he answered.

With nothing left to be said, Ozpin watched as his trusted assistant stepped into the elevator and disappeared behind the doors as they slid shut. Turning his attention back to his screen, he couldn’t help but notice the file containing information on Raku’s background and life up to this point.

“A story for another time, I suppose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for any typos or other errors. I was in a bit of a rush to post this so I didn't get to read through it beyond a quick skim.
> 
> Thoughts? Feedback would be much appreciated.


	2. Prologue Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting these two chapters at the same time because they were originally going to be one, but it was pretty damn wordy and I understand some people have trouble with committing to reading really long chapters. So, I split them up so you could read the first part and come back later and read the second.
> 
> I wanted this to read like a World of Remnant, so that's why the writing may seem strange along with the perspective. I wrote this with Qrow narrating in my mind, if that helps.
> 
> Also, I'm in a rush to post these two chapters, so forgive any typos and out of place words. I'll be sure to come back to fix them.

Fairy Tales. Stories of princesses, magic, mystical beasts, and the worlds they inhabit. But that's it, right? They're just stories that parents tell their kids to get them to sleep at night. Well, that's what 99.9% of the population of Remnant will lead you to believe. You see, some of these stories have a degree of truth to them, some are even completely true. Whether this is a good or bad thing is completely subjective. Now let's get into one tale in particular. 

The story of the dragons that roamed Remnant long ago has gotten a bit skewed throughout the centuries and generations it's been passed through. The stories you hear nowadays vary from scaled beasts with wings swooping in and stealing misbehaved children, to massive treasure hoarding monsters fighting brave knights who wish to claim the riches for themselves, to people being dragons in disguise seeking to lure mortals to their doom. The real things weren’t so…fantastical. 

Centuries ago on Remnant, dragons truly did exist. Massive creatures with shining scales and awe-inspiring wings. I guess they were a  _little_ fantastical, but I digress. Now these behemoths were  _not_ Grimm, they were living beings like you and I, but admittedly, us humans and faunus were far less impressive. So, I’m sure your line of thinking went something like “Well, if they’re living, they must have a soul which means they must have aura!” If so, then I’m glad to say that you’re right on the money. If not, then I won’t hold it against you; not everyone is the astute type. 

Anyways, somewhere along the way mankind starts popping up and things start getting hectic with them and the creatures of Grimm. A war for survival raged on and the forces of Man were on the ropes –- on the brink of extinction. But, all was not lost.  

Some of Man’s greatest qualities are  _resilience_  and  _ingenuity_. When the days seemed to be at their darkest, mankind found the spark they needed to beat back the monsters of Grimm. The discovery of Dust seemed to have shifted the momentum into the mankind’s favor overnight, but that doesn’t mean that the Grimm got any less relentless. It took time, but the Grimm were pushed back and Man flourished. Despite this, they wanted more. They wanted anything that could empower them and make sure that they wouldn’t have to worry about evil monsters for a long, long time. Remember, two great qualities of Man are  _resilience_  and  _ingenuity_. Now I can’t lie, sometimes that ingenuity is used in a way that creates more problems than it solves. 

So while this whole Man versus Grimm mess is going on, the dragons would actually keep to themselves more often than not. That is until some poor soul or mindless pack of Beowolves would wander into their domain. Things would get a little heated at that point. Despite their seclusion, our favorite scaly beasts would unfortunately find trouble coming their way in the form of power-hungry, desperate humans. It was no mystery, dragons were powerful -- immensely so. Whereas the presence of our aura is negligible most of the time, you could feel it rolling off of these dragons in waves that you almost felt like could crush you. This caught the attention of a unique group of people. 

Semblances were very much a thing back in that day, even hereditary ones and this group of people –- this clan –- had an interesting one. Kind of scary too, if you ask me. You see, they could siphon and  _steal_ aura to incorporate it into their own. They could increase their own aura reservoirs by taking someone or something else’s aura. Crazy, right? It gets crazier. Now these were only extremely rare cases, but sometimes this aura stealing semblance could actually steal other semblances too.  There was no telling how or when it would happen, but it would. It wasn’t a permanent effect. The stolen semblance would fade away in a fairly short amount of time and you would have to hope that you could steal another one. 

So, these people decided to use their insane semblance on the dragons to steal their aura so they could finish off the Grimm. They devised a ritual to trap the creatures and siphon their aura into select warriors. Most of these chosen simply gained higher aura levels, but a few others received more than that. They were granted the powers of dragons themselves; their aura rolling off of their shoulders in the form of wings, breathing fire, ice, lightning, and whatever other element Dust let them spew forth. But there was a side effect to taking the dragons’ powers. The ludicrous amount of aura siphoned from the creatures caused the semblance stealing aspect to be permanent. Anyways, you can imagine that quelling the dwindling Grimm was pretty easy with these guys. 

With the Grimm receding, humans and faunus reveled in their chance at living without a constant dread hanging over them. They thrived of course. Nomadic settlements turned into villages, villages into cozy towns, towns into bustling cities. Infrastructure sprawled and industry boomed. Unfortunately, conflict never did disappear entirely.   
   
As the world changed due to prosperity and eventual war, so did the clan that was home to those that harbored a dragon’s soul within them. They kept a strong presence for a stretch of time, but they weren’t immune to the common downfalls of Man in the form of greed and vanity. Those whose bloodlines contained the semblance of the dragons believed themselves to be superior and this caused a rift. Different groups and families went their separate ways, some maintaining a degree of notoriety, others fading into obscurity. Funnily enough, our fire-breathing pals ended up being in the latter simply because the dragon semblance appeared in less and less people as time went on, and they were already few in number to begin with. Apparently, it’s hard to unlock a semblance when it doesn’t actually belong to you in the first place.   
   
Eventually, the semblance was mostly believed to be lost or just a myth. Those who were descendants in the bloodline either never had their aura unlocked -- thus never discovering their potential power -- or those who did get their aura unlocked weren't lucky enough to have actually inherited the coveted semblance. People became jaded and the whole story of the old clan and the dragons ended up being dismissed as just that, a story and nothing more. That’s where you get all these weird stories you hear now. 

Fact of the matter is, this semblance really did just fly under the radar all these years. It isn’t a myth and there is certain someone out there who possesses it. Fortunately, we know who that certain someone is, so let’s go back a few years and learn about him.  


	3. Prologue Part III

Ajisai, a moderately sized town outside the Kingdom of Mistral on the continent of Anima. The village sat on a pretty large river that ran from Lake Matsu, so fishing was abundant as a source of income and sustenance. Aside from that, it was also a common rest stop for various trade vessels that traveled up and down the river. Now in this village lived a young couple who recently birthed a baby boy. This boy’s name came to be Raku Ryuukuro. Raku’s family, namely his father, claims that they are descendants of the fabled dragon warriors from so long ago. Unsurprisingly, these claims were met with heavy skepticism and opposition. Despite that, Raku’s father unwaveringly clung to his beliefs. His son was going to be the first in hundreds of years to unlock the forgotten semblance of his supposed ancestors and you couldn’t tell him otherwise. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be around to see just how right he was. The industry coming from Ajisai painted a huge target on its back and there were some rather unpleasant people out there looking to hit a bullseye. 

There are certain dangers that come with living outside the walls of a given Kingdom. You have to be tough as nails to live that lifestyle. Grimm could attack at any moment, but they aren't the only thing you have to worry about if you prefer the more rural lifestyle. You see, Remnant has a bandit problem; bandits being roving tribes of people that will ransack villages and take what they need to survive. You have to be a real piece of work to turn to the bandit life in times like these.  

Little Raku had just turned five and life was pretty good, simple, and maybe a little boring because of that, but good. It was your run-of-the-mill day in Ajisai. Fishing boats sat out on the river, eager to haul in their catches for the day, and a trade ship with goods from Mistral had just pulled in to the docks that morning. Raku was at the market with his mother when an explosion at the walls around the town rocked the settlement. Everything that followed was a whirlwind. Bandits charged into the breach and ran rampant through the streets of Ajisai, slaughtering any in their way whether they were defending themselves or not. Raku’s father worked at the docks, so that’s where his mother took him in hopes that they would be able to find a means to escape. The ship from Mistral had already taken off and whatever boats left at the dock weren’t taking their time in departing. The only thing Raku’s parents could find amidst the chaos was a small rowboat and at that point, the bandits had reached the docks and were picking off any boats they could. That wasn’t it, of course it wasn’t, we all know what happens with stuff like this. Death, despair, fear, anguish, sadness; all things that act like a flame for the moths that are the Grimm. It didn’t take long for them to show up in droves. Beowolves ripped through whatever and whoever, bandit or innocent townspeople. Nevermore descended upon fleeing boats, leaving little hope to escape. Raku’s parents were left with a decision. They could all get into this one remaining boat and the three of them would surely perish, or they could see their son off and keep the invaders at bay long enough to give their child a fighting chance. Deciding to take that leap of faith, Raku was placed into the small boat and shoved away from the docks to be left at the mercy of the currents instead of facing a sure death with his family. 

The odds were stacked against him, but the kid made it somehow. It had been a couple days after the attack when the boat finally washed ashore. It had drifted into a smaller river that split off from the main one that Ajisai sat on. Raku had been asleep when it happened, but was awoken when a farmer found him after noticing the rowboat sitting on the riverbank on his way back home from a trip to a nearby town. You can’t really blame him, but the kid wasn’t eager to conversate in the slightest; only answering yes or no questions with a nod or shake of his head. The only worthwhile information the farmer could get out of the young boy was a tearful shake of his head when he asked if he had a home or parents. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots with the recent news of Ajisai’s demise. The only options here would to take this kid in or leave him to his own devices. There weren’t any orphanages out in rural Mistral and there was no sense in taking the multi-day trip to the just to drop off a homeless kid.   
   
A year later, Raku worked to help out on the farm wherever a six-year-old could among the other farmhands. His demeanor had completely changed since that dreadful day that seemed so long ago now, but it had only been a little over a year. He was much brighter, seeming to be smiling every minute of the day, his laughter not an uncommon sound to behold amongst the bustle of the farm. It’s great to see a little kid bounce back from hardship in such a way, but there was still something else. Kids’ brains are like sponges, this is common knowledge. They learn and retain information much easier than us older folk, but they don’t typically seek it out as much as we do in our later years. This is where Raku was different. He had an unusual drive for a six-year-old to learn whatever he could and better himself; he simply had a drive that said “more.” Till the land, milk a cow, cook a simple stew of meat and vegetables, how to read, basic arithmetic, first aid. All of these things he decided get help in learning to do in some capacity. Now only being six allows you to do so much. He was no prodigy at any of these things, but he was alright for a kid. It was this unusual drive, determination, and juvenile curiosity that would once again twist the young boy’s life forever. 

 One day, Raku insisted on going with some of the farmhands on a trip to Mistral. He had never seen the Kingdom proper before, only being able to paint a picture of it in his overactive imagination. A city built upon two mountains, thriving with culture and art of all kinds, and bustling marketplaces with throngs of people buying and selling goods. It’s not hard to see why a child would be so eager to see something that sounds like it came out of one of their bedtime stories. It took a little convincing and a lot of begging, but he was allowed to go by the farmer that first found him. 

It took about a day and a half of travel to get there, but Mistral was everything the bright-eyed kid could have hoped for. An entire city built on, below, and within two mountains. It was just like he pictured it in his head, cascading waterfall and all. Countless buildings sprawled over the two peaks, but some how never detracting from the beauty of the range as a whole. Questions about the city came spewing from young Raku’s mouth much to the humor of the farmhands present, and dismay of the grumpier ones. They told him of the festivals held within the city celebrating the Kingdom’s rich culture and history. They especially told the curious child about Haven, the Huntsman Academy that sat at the top of the twin peaks. Raku couldn’t help but be enraptured by the mountain metropolis. 

The thing is, the boy had never seen and was never told the truth about the inner workings of Mistral. The disparity between economic classes, the poverty in the lower levels of the city, the massive black market. It’s not like a kid should know about all of these things, but in hindsight, that knowledge probably would have changed  _a lot_ of things.  

The enamored Raku somehow managed to wander off when they finally made it into the city, looking to take in all the sights he could. It’s easy to get swept up in the hustle and bustle in the middle to upper levels of Mistral if you don’t know what you’re doing. It’s not hard to see how this would be a danger to a six-year-old. Raku would wind up lost in the tunnel passages, crowded markets, and twisting paths of the city. He was only supposed to be here for a couple days with the caravan from the farm, and by the end of their stay, they never managed to find the youngest of the farmhands. The caravan reluctantly left after debating whether they should stay to search for the kid or not, but not before putting in word with Mistral’s law enforcement. There wasn’t much in the way of high hopes given Mistral’s nature and a lost kid not being that high of a priority in the hectic Kingdom. 

Sadly, the kid had to discover the dark underbelly of Mistral the hard way. Now Raku wasn’t  _entirely_ helpless. A couple months were spent terrified and alone, yes, but meager begging got him by for a little bit. Begging wouldn’t cut it in the long run, though. He needed something more, and the ever-observant child would find it in his fellow street rats. The young one had always been a people watcher and it didn’t take long for him to notice others like himself doing less than moral things to get by. Raku had never been a mean-spirited child, but survival trumped morality in this case, so he put that innate ability to learn to work. As one would come to find out, asking fellow vagrants how to pickpocket and steal doesn’t really work out well, but there were a couple that still held pity towards a struggling kid, so they showed him the ropes.    
   
In the year that he had spent on Mistral's streets, Raku had gotten pretty good at being a sneaky little criminal. Turns out that he was a natural at this whole stealing and pickpocketing stuff. Seven years old and he had some pretty good sleight of hand, but his bread and butter was definitely slipping into the shipping yards and stealing Dust from containers. He’d take whatever little amount of Dust he got and brought it to seedy dealers in lower Mistral for lien. Of course they’d underpay him because he was a kid and he didn’t know any better, but money was money. One of his runs wouldn’t go so smoothly, though. He wasn’t the only lowly criminal that frequented the storage yard. 

If you had any sense when it came to this way of living, you knew that if whatever you were taking had a big white snowflake on it, you were in for a nice payday. That’s exactly what Raku was looking for that day. He had heard that a nicely sized SDC shipment came in, and that was a cake he wanted a slice of. He should’ve known to stay away, though. Those three letters –- SDC. If negative emotions are the flame for the moths that are Grimm, then the SDC is the flame for the moths that are the bottom-of-the-barrel type people of Remnant. Raku was out of his depth here, but he still broke into that black shipping container with that prized white snowflake emblazoned on the side. He stuffed two Dust crystals into each of his two pockets and hid one fire Dust crystal in his mouth. It never occurred to Raku that he was in over his head until he heard voices from outside, one of them noting that the container was already open. He knew that the voices didn’t belong to any sort of security. They were here for the same reason he was. Raku panicked. He had his fair share of confrontations, but not with any other criminals, only those who pitied the child and dealt him a slap on the wrist. He ran. Or at least tried to; he hardly made a step before he was grabbed and thrown to the ground by the three men outside the storage container. They demanded he fork over whatever Dust he had. Raku reluctantly emptied his pockets but kept the fire Dust in his mouth. He was not nearly as clever as he believed. The three criminals holding Raku up demanded that he spit out whatever was in his mouth. They didn’t take kindly to his defiance in this case. 

This small amount of fire Dust could fetch a decent amount of lien for a homeless kid, especially it was right from the SDC, so Raku relented and refused to give it up. That’s when the beating began. The underworld of Remnant, especially Mistral, doesn’t care how old or young you are –- if you have your aura unlocked or not. Competition is competition even if said “competition” is a lone seven-year-old kid trying to get some money so he doesn’t starve. Seconds felt like hours as Raku curled up into ball to try to mitigate the damage from the whirlwind of stomps, kicks, and punches that rained down on him. If he could just last, maybe they’d get tired or bored. Maybe someone would hear the commotion and come and chase them off. There is only so much a seven-year-old could withstand, but this was no ordinary seven-year-old and the three criminals beating a lone child would unknowingly be the catalyst to uncovering the extraordinary. 

The beatdown had been going for a couple minutes, each man now taking a turn at trying to get this pest to give up the Dust. Maybe it wasn’t worth all this effort for this one crystal, but they had stars in their eyes just like the kid they were beating. It was one particular kick that managed to land square on Raku’s jaw. The blow caused the boy’s jaw to clench and he crushed the crystal between his teeth. Raku’s eyes shot open and he quickly rose to his knees. A burning sensation surged within his stomach and he was sure he was poisoned by the Dust somehow. His assailants hesitated as he clutched his stomach and groaned in pain, eyes squeezed shut. It wasn’t until a series of red flashes rippled across his body that the burning in Raku’s stomach subsided to an odd warmth. What was once a feeling of his insides being seared, was now like being engulfed by the comfort of a cozy campfire. The warmth then suddenly moved up his throat and his eyes shot open. Time seemed to freeze for the three vagabonds as they looked into the eyes they were met with. Irises that were once red now glowed and looked to contain a roaring inferno, the color even mimicking such, and round pupils were now serpentine slits. Before their fight or flight instinct could kick in, Raku’s mouth opened and a wave of flame erupted forth, scorching the side of the shipping container and swallowing his attackers. Screams of agony and the sizzling of freshly seared flesh was all that could be heard as the three goons hightailed it out of the shipping yard. 

Raku sat stunned as he took deep, heaving breaths. Did he really just do that? Did that really just happen? His mind was taken back home to when his father was telling him about his supposed ancestors for the umpteenth time. Powerful warriors that wielded the power of ancient beasts called dragons; breathing fire, shaping their aura into wings, scales appearing on their bodies. His young mind could still vividly picture the disappointment that seemed to lurk within his father’s eyes when he would mention that such a semblance hasn’t been seen in hundreds of years, not even during the tumultuous times of the Great War.   
   
I guess the kid didn’t leave that shipping yard completely emptyhanded that day. Could you imagine? Homeless at age seven and unlocking some sort of fabled power that you weren’t even sure was actually real in the first place. Everything Raku knew how to do up to this point in his life was taught to him by someone else. Who could he go to now? Nobody else in the world possessed this semblance. There was not a soul out there that could teach him how to use his newfound abilities. He would have to each himself. 

It would be a while until Raku started to learn and practice his abilities, not really getting a hang of things until he was about ten years old. Also by this time, he was old enough to start taking up jobs around Mistral. Anything from being a courier for some bigwig or helping wash dishes at a tavern. Nothing was really out of the question as long as he didn’t have to constantly steal and beg for money.   
   
The importance of education was never lost on the boy, which is why you would find him among the shelves of books in a library somewhere within the middle levels of the city when he wasn’t busy with a job of some sort. He was able to take what he was already taught and further his knowledge with help from his strong learning capabilities and helpful stranger or two along the way. If Raku wasn’t in the library, then he was likely off training his aura and his semblance. A few “borrowed” books on aura control helped there.

By age twelve, Raku was living comfortably enough that he could broaden his horizons beyond Mistral’s walls. I don’t mean that he was set up in a nice little studio apartment with a cat, but he had the lien to take himself out of the city now. Understandably, folks are hesitant to hire a random kid that’s hardly hit puberty. This is especially true if he happens to walk into your stereotypically seedy criminal hideout in search of work. Turns out that if the twelve-year-old knew where to find you in the first place, he was worth utilizing in some capacity. You wouldn’t see him turning over huge Dust shipments and robbing banks, but he was valuable when it came things like gathering information, scouting out smuggling routes, or as an extra hand in guarding shipments. 

 It's not good to put all your eggs in one basket. Raku knew this. Having criminal activity be your  _only_ activity isn’t a good idea if you’re trying to stay on the down-low. You needed to sprinkle in some honest work and that’s what he did when he found the village of Tsutsuji. It was quaint, andjust as modest as its name suggests, with hardworking and goodhearted people working the land around it. Raku began making part of his living helping out the inhabitants of Tsutsuji by doing just about anything they asked of him, whether he was warding off and exterminating any Grimm that got too close to the village for comfort, helping till farmland, or cleaning tables at the village's tavern. 

Roughly a year later, and the good people of Tsutsuji had grown pretty fond of their young frequenter. The unremarkable town wasn't a place one would typically think of repeatedly visiting, but here was a teenager dropping in and out as he pleased. Thankfully, nobody really pried into what Raku did whenever he left. He wasn't sure how he would avoid explaining how he was a career criminal at thirteen. But, be that as it may, the townspeople loved the kid seeing he did a lot for them in the span of a year. It was to Raku's surprise when he arrived one day to hear that the blacksmith had a gift for him. It was even more surprising when he walked into the blacksmith's shop to have a weapon worthy of a full-fledged huntsman dropped into his arms. 

It was a pretty big weapon, a bit too big for a thirteen-year-old, but the blacksmith insisted he would grow into it. Raku couldn't pry his eyes away from his gleaming gift. A naginata standing at a whole ten feet in length. The shaft towering at six-foot-four-inches and a menacing four-foot-long black blade with large serrations on the backside of the sleek, silver cutting edge. A golden ornate dragon's head sat at the bottom of the polished red end of the shaft with its maw agape to match the golden guard, known as a tsuba, that resided at the bottom of the blade, separating it from the top portion of the shaft which was painted black. A strip of two-foot-long strip of red cloth was tied to and hung freely from the tsuba, adding to the naginata's elegance. The blacksmith would go on to show that the blade could be launched off the weapon and stay attached by a chain contained within the shaft. Due to the insistence from the blacksmith, Raku decided to give it a name Burning Tempest. Never did the boy have a weapon to call his own. Swords, daggers, spears, staves, all of these weapons that he would get a hold of and they wouldn't last more than a month because they were always in terrible condition whenever he got a hold of them. Those troubles all seemed to be a thing of the past now. He had a weapon that was more fit for a huntsman than a thirteen-year-old. Raku showered the generous blacksmith with gratitude before he left in an eager mood to try out his new weapon on some unfortunate Grimm that happened to be lingering near Tsutsuji.   
   
For the next two years, the dragon-souled boy's visits to Tsutsuji became more and more scarce. New "job" opportunities had been popping up left and right, taking him outside of Mistral to the other three kingdoms. It's not likely to be so well-traveled at such a young age, but here was Raku spending months at a time in different kingdoms indulging in an array of different criminal activities. Knocking over a bank in Atlas despite the powerful presence of security, smuggling weapons and Dust through the unforgiving sands of Vacuan deserts, getting tied up in turf wars in the seedy end of Vale. He was good at what he did, better than he had any right being at his age. That's why he stuck with it for so long, really. It was all he really knew and he was  _good_ at it. Never again did Raku want to find himself on the streets not being able to provide for himself, so he stuck with what worked. 

It had been a whole five months since the now fifteen-year-old Raku had made his last visit to the village of Tsutsuji. He had been in Vale handling some smuggling work but was now walking a path that he has gotten well-acquainted with over the years. It would be a late arrival seeing that the shattered moon was high in the night sky, but he knew he would always have a room open for him at the small tavern in the village. It really was tempting to call the admittedly unremarkable village home, but Raku knew that the life he led wouldn't allow him. It was anxiety inducing to think about the reaction he would garner if the people of Tsutsuji found out what he actually did for a living. Wherever this line of thinking was taking him suddenly didn't matter anymore as his train of thought was broken by the sight of black smoke billowing into the air up ahead accompanied by an ominous orange glow that sat just on the tops of the trees. What was a leisurely nighttime walk is now a panicked sprint, and whatever Raku was about to find, the young teen could only assume the worst.    
   
Tsutsuji was burning, he could gather that much from a distance. Arriving on scene, Raku was greeted with a blast from the past in the worst of ways. Bodies lay in the streets with bandits rifling through homes and the few shops the town had and the Grimm were surely well on their way. Raku was catatonic, his gaze was locked down the road but he was gazing  _at_ nothing. His chest felt like a warzone in itself, emotions begging to burst forth and tear him apart at the seams, but at the same time, he was unbearably numb. 

If you asked Raku how long he had been standing there, he wouldn't be able to give you an answer because he truthfully didn't know. All he remembered was a bandit breaking him from his stupor by charging him. If you asked him why he did what he did, he wouldn't be able to an honest answer to that either. It was all reactionary. It was all off instinct. With a twirl of his naginata and a pivot to the side, the wild overhead swing of the bandit's sword was parried and the bandit himself stumbled past in his loss of balance. Before he could recover, Raku dropped low and used his leg in a dragon tail sweep to take his attacker's legs out from under him, causing them to fly out from under him, hitting the ground with a resounding thud. Continuing his sweeping motion, Raku fluidly rose with a spin as he twirled his polearm before letting out a cry as he drove it down, skewering the downed foe through his chest. The last thing the lowly bandit would ever see was a snarling visage with two burning serpent-like slits burrowing into his own eyes as his vision was consumed by darkness. Ripping his weapon out of the corpse, the enraged boy whirled around and stormed into the village, his semblance in full expression as wings produced by his surging aura rolled off the backs of his shoulders and his draconic eyes looked to burn brighter than any of the surrounding flames.

Twenty minutes later, a bloodied and bruised Raku slowly hobbled out of what now seemed more like a glorified bonfire than a village. He wasn't entirely sure how many bandits he fought. More importantly, he wasn't sure how many he  _killed_ , only that it was more than three, less than ten. The worst part was the numbness he felt after it all. Just about anyone else would be in hysterics, but the only thing Raku cared for now was sleeping and letting his aura recuperate. 

Taking a life isn't easy, and if you're a decent person in the slightest, it never will be. Some argue that the mental war with yourself in the aftermath is just as much of a battle as the physical one where you had to kill in the first place. Some may even say it's worse. Raku hasn't shown any signs of that turmoil, though. Whether it's because he's really good at bottling things up or he's actually a cold-blooded killer at age fifteen isn't a call I can make. Though, I'd be willing to believe it's the former. 

The year following the loss of Tsutsuji was deep dive into usual antics. Raku didn't bother with much in the way of honest work anymore. All of his time went into smuggling, robbing the rich blind, and sabotaging competition. Never again did he want to chance experiencing another Ajisai or Tsutsuji. During this time, Raku may have gotten a little too creative for his own good.  

He had been sixteen for only about a week around this time. As one could imagine, a semblance that forced you to put Dust in your mouth could be quite the hassle and Raku had been trying to find ways to evolve his semblance but it wouldn't go anywhere. This is where he got the idea for his tattoos. There are plenty of stories you'll hear about people infusing Dust with their bodies. They'll eat it, jam it straight into their arms or legs, or a whole host of other morbid things that you can research on your own time. Anyways, Raku wasn't looking to go  _that_ far, so he used some of that ingenuity and came up with something more "controlled." Why not try infusing Dust into ink and getting it tattooed on your arms? Using some connections, he managed to create this special ink by crushing Dust crystals into a fine powder and mixing it with your run-of-the-mill tattoo ink. From there, the work on the tattoos started. The whole process took a whole week and a half with sessions every other day. To say it was grueling would probably be a gross understatement. Crazy part this is, it actually worked. He could draw power from Dust into his tattoos and use it in concert with his semblance. There were of course some painful drawbacks when he used this method, but it was faster than absorbing the Dust's energy by putting it in his mouth. I guess you do whatever you can to get a leg up on the competition in the underworld of Remnant. 

Jump ahead about another year and now we find Raku relaxing in Mistral on his seventeenth birthday. His most recent job was a month ago and involved stealing some Dust from a pretty well-known smuggler who operated out in a town on the coast of Mistral. It was a pretty close call, so Raku decided to lay low for a while. He was sitting at one of his favorite cafés in the middle level of Mistral enjoying some breakfast with tea and a book he had gotten from the library that same morning. The young criminal had never been one for "celebrating" his birthday, but, if possible, he would treat himself to something as congratulations for making it another year in his rollercoaster of a life. Now imagine his surprise when he was approached by a strange woman and she addressed him by his full name. That put him on edge, then she said she was from Beacon Academy and he was even more put off. Why in the world did someone from Beacon Academy in Vale come all the way to Mistral? How the hell did she know his whole name? All she said after her half-introduction was that she had a handwritten letter from the Headmaster of Beacon that was strictly meant for his eyes only. And with that, she left him with the letter and left without another word. 

Raku didn't open the letter until he was back in the guest house he had been staying in. Even then, he still opened the letter with the utmost precision and care because he was still paranoid that someone he made an enemy out of managed to send him a bomb in an envelope. To his relief, it wasn't some crazy bomb, but it actually was a letter from Professor Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon Academy. Reading on, Raku wished it had been a bomb.  

As it turned out, Ozpin had been keeping tabs on Raku for a  _very_ long time. I mean, he has been keeping track of the boy since he was just an innocent kid living in Ajisai. He knew  _everything_. Well, there was a good chunk of time missing between the destruction and the emergence of Raku's semblance, but everything else had been recollected as if Ozpin lived it himself.Ozpin had been trying to keep an eye on Raku's family for a while in hopes of being able to reach out to them in the event of that their supposed hereditary semblance appeared. After Raku's home was destroyed, he fell off of Ozpin's radar and was believed to have been lost in the attack. Thankfully, he was proven wrong two years later when he was informed about murmurs in Mistral about a child breathing fire and burning three men. From there, he managed to find the young boy and was able to keep track of him throughout all of his exploits for the next ten years. 

Having somebody you've never met write you a letter telling you your own life story can be pretty damn unnerving. Especially if they're able to detail something you've kept a closely guarded secret the whole time like Raku has with his semblance. Crazily enough, that wasn't the most shocking part. What surprised the overwhelmed teen the most was Ozpin offering him a place in Beacon's first year class at the end of the letter. He mentioned there was more to it, but those details would be best discussed face to face.  

For twelve long years, Raku has had to fight for every little thing he has by doing a lot of things he isn't proud of. How he was able to get himself in a spot where he could comfortably support himself at age seventeen is a feat of unrivaled audacity and sheer luck. Now, he was given an offer that could change everything for him. He had never considered becoming a huntsman simply because he didn't believe he would make it an hour into the process before he was recognized as a criminal and thrown in prison, but this letter from Ozpin nullified all of that. Getting out of the life of crime was something that Raku had been strongly considering in the months leading up to his birthday, but he was hesitant because he was terrified that he wouldn't be able to adjust to a "normal" life and end up back at square one. Not anymore. He's going to become a huntsman. Now on his way to Beacon, there's no telling what awaits him. Will he continue on the rise? Or is there another pitfall waiting for him down the road? 

They say that some of Man’s greatest qualities are  _resilience_  and  _ingenuity_. If you ask me, Raku is as resilient and ingenious as it gets. 


	4. Arrival

The low hum of a large transportation airship's engines could be heard in the sky over Vale as it lumbered across the sky to its destination – Beacon Academy. Inside, a black-haired teen sat in one of the private rooms that contained amenities aplenty from a bed to one of those fancy wall-mounted holoTVs that droned on with some news report in the background.

Raku sighed to try to ease the bit of nerves he could feel coiled up in his chest as he gazed out the window as the massive wings of the ship slowly oscillated up and down not unlike that of a bird's. The luxury of his current environment was odd to him. He was by no means used to having a private room all to himself on one of these big transport airships. It was more likely to find him stowed away in the cold depths of the cargo storage, or out in one of the seating areas with the rest of the common folk. But apparently, Professor Ozpin took quite the interest in Raku and wasn't sparing any expense on him. He couldn't help but feel like he was being buttered up for something.

"-a rise in White Fang activity throughout the city."

The reporter talking on the screen broke the former criminal from his thoughts and he was willing to let the cynicism rest for a bit.

"Dust shipments, Dust shops, military equipment. None of it safe from the thieving hands of the once peaceful organization..." the man, who appeared to be reporting from one of the shipping yards in Vale, continued on. "But the most bizarre detail is that their efforts seem to be spearheaded by renowned criminal Roman Torchwick."

That got Raku to raise an eyebrow. He knew of Roman Torchwick because of his previous line of work, and who didn't know of the White Fang nowadays? Those two did not seem to mix in the slightest.

"Why in the world would the White Fang be in business with a human?" he asked himself aloud.

_"The White Fang definitely weren't this active last time I was here. I wonder what has them worked up in a tizzy, and why it has them collecting so much Dust,"_ Raku thought.

A notification sound from his new scroll pulled Raku's attention away from the news as he pulled it out of his pocket. The scroll was waiting for him in the room when he had boarded and a stewardess had told him that he should expect a message from Professor Ozpin when they arrived in Vale. Seeing that the airship would be landing at Beacon in just a few minutes, this must be what Raku was waiting for.

It hadn't been very wordy and it wasn't some extravagant welcome to the school. All the message had told him was that he was to immediately report to Ozpin's office at the top of the CCT tower and that if anyone asked, he was a transfer student from Haven Academy in Mistral.

"Hm. At least it was straight to point," Raku commented with a shrug.

The folding of the wings caused the airship to lurch ever so slightly as it came in for its final approach.

"One of the White Fang's more recent attempts at stealing Dust from Vale's shipping yards was broken up by a team of huntresses-in-training from Beacon Academy know as Team R-"

The news report was cut off when the holoTV was shut off by a departing Raku as he gathered his bags and left the room.

With one large black duffle bag hanging from his hand at his side, and another slung over his shoulder, Raku waded through the sea of hopeful and excited Haven students that gathered near the ship's exit doors. As far as they knew, he was one of them; a bright-eyed huntsman-in-training looking to compete in the Vytal Festival tournament and win big.

Thankfully, he blended in. Raku had been worried that the students would have been dressed in their uniforms and he would have been sticking out in his casual wear consisting of a dark red, crew neck thermal, black skinny jeans, and black skate shoes. Ozpin had insisted that he used that "transfer student from Haven" cover story and he wanted to look the part. Though Raku couldn't help but wonder why he needed a cover story in the first place. Sure, the circumstances surrounding his admission to the school were a little strange, but couldn't he just be another Beacon Academy student?

Whatever murmurs Raku could pick up on in the crowd suggested that there were already plenty of students from Haven at Beacon, and that students from the other schools had been arriving in "waves" or "batches."

Truthfully, the former criminal didn't have much care for the tournament. Well, that's not entirely true. Gambling on matches had been a solid way for Raku to earn some lien in the past. Maybe he should start caring, though. he is a student at Beacon now, after all. Then again, he was pretty sure you needed a team to even qualify, and something told Raku that he wasn't going to have one.

Suddenly, the doors of the ship slid open with a hiss and the crowd of Haven students surged forth down the ramp onto the landing pad. Raku had made it a point to hang back so he didn't get swept away by the antsy crowd.

Leisurely strolling down the ramp in the wake of the crowd, he was greeted with the extravagance of Beacon Academy. Flying buttresses sweeping every which way, archways dotted among them, and tall spires sprouting up among the architecture. It didn't take much to deduce that the tallest of them all was the CCT. In his admiration of Beacon's campus, Raku had subconsciously continued on away from the landing pads down the long walkway leading to the entryway out in front of the school.

The entryway was a thing of beauty itself. The wide path cut through what seemed to be a large pond with archways circling around. A statue of a huntsman and a huntress standing triumphantly over a beowolf stood in the middle of the path and red trees from the fabled Forever Fall forest stood in a decorative circle around the pathway.

The two massive doors that stood as the entrance to the school were left open and led into an atrium that was well populated with students. A glass roof covered the stretch of the main hallway that opens up to the heart of the campus, while seating areas sat off to the sides of the hall, beyond towering pillars, under a closed roof. Raku weaved his way through the throngs of students in the atrium, many of them awaiting the arrival of their friends and teammates from the other schools. To say the teen was eager to get a good look at what was going to be his home for the next four years could easily be seen as an understatement.

Home. That was a strong word, at least for this former vagrant. It had been twelve years since Raku had actually had one. Twelve years spent as a wanderer and a criminal. Having that change in a matter of months was certainly a shock. The offer to attend Beacon Academy had kicked in the door on Raku's life, and he still couldn't be sure if it was for better or worse. He wasn't sure if he could handle another Ajisai or Tsutsuji.

Descending the large staircase at the end of the grand atrium, Raku found himself standing before the campus of Beacon Academy, and what a place it was. Students strolled about the pathways going about their daily business, as others sat and conversed on benches or in the shade of a tree. The various buildings were nothing to sneeze at and were just as large and grandiose as the view from the outside would suggest. The school almost felt like a city in and of itself.

The dragon-souled boy could feel the energy rolling over him in waves, threatening to sweep him away at a moment's notice. It was all completely foreign to him. All of these people were around his age and were here simply to learn and become huntsmen and huntresses. They didn't want to rob people, they didn't want to steal Dust, they didn't look down on him because he was younger, and most importantly, they weren't looking to kill him. Everything about this place just felt  _better_ , and it was easing the slight nerves in Raku's chest with each passing second.

Every bit of his being was telling Raku to explore and find out what Beacon had to offer, but he had somewhere to be, so he was forced to stay his curiosity for the time being. At least that's what he was trying to do before said curiosity was piqued by a large crowd gathered near what appeared to be the school's cafeteria. Typically, that wouldn't be strange at all. People get hungry, and at a huge school like Beacon, it was understandable that there would be a sizeable crowd at the cafeteria at any given time. That didn't explain why that sizeable crowd was gathered outside of the cafeteria rather than inside, eating.

"You know who started it?" One student asked another.

"I think it was Team RWBY and Team JNPR," was the reply.

"Aren't they first years?"

"Yep."

"Of course..."

Alright. Something went down inside and that's why everyone was out here looking in through the windows. A food fight, Raku imagined.

Suddenly, something was sent rocketing through the cafeteria's roof up into the sky.

"A pretty serious food fight it looks like..." he mumbled.

Raku squinted his red eyes as he tried to make out exactly what was sent up into low orbit from the lunchroom, but all he could really distinguish was a lively yellow color. It seemed to be hair, so was it actually blonde? It was definitely a person, that was for sure. Hopefully they weren't having too bad of a time up there...

As much as he should have continued on his way, Raku couldn't help but watch the commotion going on inside the lunchroom. Food, drinks, and furniture flew every which way, the occasional student along with them. By the looks of it, they even managed to knock over some massive pillar inside. Then again, that shouldn't be too surprising since one of the cafeteria combatants was seemingly launched into the stratosphere.

After one of the groups of Beacon students was caught in a whirlwind of various foods and drinks, and splattered against the wall, the food fight seemed to be over. The end of the war in the lunchroom was promptly followed by a sharp voice breaking through the crowd, causing the students gathered outside to disperse in every which direction. Raku couldn't make out what it said over the chatter of lingering people, but figured out the source as a tall blonde woman in business dress stormed past him into the mess hall. She threw the doors open, causing a resounding bang, and with a few waves of her-wait-is that a  _riding crop?_

Whatever qualm Raku could've had about the authority figure's choice of weapon was swiftly put to rest as overturned lunch tables and benches flew into the air and tumbled over each other to come to rest neatly back in their original rows. Plates and silverware clattered and clanked as they stacked and organized themselves on a table at the end of the hall. The colorful, splattered mess that covered the cracked wall seemed to disappear and the wall fixed itself; while entire entrées disposed of themselves into the numerous trash bins. Even the massive fallen pillar righted itself. Huh. Even that hole in the ceiling was fixed now.

_"Hang on a second, what happened to that one-"_ Raku's train of thought was cut off as a yellow human-meteor came crashing back through the roof, creating a gaping hole in the ceiling once more.

The blonde woman looked as if she was about to unleash the tongue-lashing of a lifetime, but her rage was placated by a grey-haired man before she could let loose. Funnily enough, everyone outside was ousted rather quickly by the angered woman, but those inside didn't seem to really pay her much mind as they were caught up in laughing with their friend who just returned from her trip from the edge of Remnant's atmosphere.

"If there's anything I can say after being here for only twenty minutes, it's that this surely isn't a dull place..." Raku muttered to himself as he went on his way, away from the battlefield that was Beacon's cafeteria. What more could one really say after witnessing a food fight after not even half an hour of being at the school?

Walking around towards the front of the cafeteria, Raku popped open his scroll to see if he received anything new in regards to his arrival. He really should have learned to not stare at his scroll while walking from all the people he's pickpocketed, but he had to learn the hard way when he was bumped into, and the device was sent clattering to the ground out of his grip.

"I'm so sorry! I was just in a rush to catch up to my friends! I hope I didn't break your scroll." the person's voice oozed sincerity and concern, and if Raku was honest, it wasn't hard to listen to. If he had to put a word to it, it would have to be 'vibrant'.

"Don't sweat it. I should've been paying attention to where I was going instead of staring at it like a moron," Raku replied as he stood upright from picking up his scroll. He wasn't entirely prepared to be met with a blonde girl who seemed to be wearing more food than clothes despite being in her school uniform. Her blonde hair was frizzed and frazzled with strands shooting up every which way with something that resembled mashed potatoes matting some of it down. Raku imagined that her mane was something she was rather meticulous about in any other occasion. Her face held an undeniable beauty with an easy-going smile that never seemed to completely go away, giving her a warm and welcoming air that surrounded her.

"Rough day?" He finally asked, realizing again that yes, this girl was still covered in food.

The student raised an eyebrow like she didn't understand what Raku was getting at. A quick glance down at her own appearance was enough to bring a bashful chuckle out of her.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot about that." The blonde tried to at least brush some of the bits of food off, but it only served to smear it further into her clothes. "Welp, despite what all of this may lead you to think..." she motioned to herself "...today has been great!"

A chuckle escaped Raku as he smiled at the girl's exuberance despite being, to put it bluntly, a mess. It was actually pretty contagious.

"Yeah? How's the weather up there?" Raku joked with an obvious glance to the sky.

"A bit chilly, but the view was pretty sweet,"

"If you're not big on cold weather, stay far away from Atlas."

"Have you been to Atlas?"

"Yeah, unfortunately." Raku sighed and grimaced as he recalled his last visit to the Kingdom involving Atlesian military personnel shooting at him.

"Not a fan of the cold?" the girl asked.

"I can handle the cold, it's just that Atlesians aren't the most...welcoming of people at times."

"I know what you mean. One of my teammates is from there, but thankfully she warmed up to us. Anyways, my name's Yang!" the sunny girl offered her hand seemingly forgetting that it was covered in meat of some sort. If he had to guess by the slight aroma, Raku would say turkey.

He looked down at the hand and raised a brow before looking back up at Yang's face with a lopsided grin. In turn, she looked down at her turkey-slathered hand before pulling it away and letting it fall back to her side where it clasped the hem of her skirt.

"Sorry! I typically don't meet new people while I'm covered in my lunch." Yang said as she looked off to the side in embarrassment.

"Eh. A little turkey never hurt anyone. I'm Raku." Raku replied as he shot his hand out and grabbed a hold of Yang's and gave it a firm shake.

Yang chortled. "You clearly didn't see the entire food fight, turkey can do some serious damage. It's nice to meet ya, Raku."

"Was it turkey that sent you flying through the ceiling?"

"Nope. Watermelon on a flagpole."

"Nice."

"So, you here for the Vytal Festival?" Yang asked, changing the topic.

"Not exactly. I'm actually transferring here from Haven. The Festival just provided a good excuse to hitch a ride here."

Yang cocked an eyebrow. "Transferring is a thing? What about your team?"

"We didn't exactly get along. It's part of why I transferred here to Beacon," Raku lied, feigning a somber tone.

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear about that," Yang offered her sympathies with small frown.

Raku smiled at hearing a bit of genuine sympathy for once. That wasn't something you'd often see in Mistral due to the disparity between the social and economic classes. To see someone so crestfallen at his own misfortune, despite it being a lie, was a refreshing and welcome experience.

"It's in the past," Raku shrugged. "I'm here at Beacon now, that's what matters."

The blonde's cheerful demeanor seemed to return just as quickly as it left. "I like the mindset!" She said with a grin. "But, I can't help but wonder if you'll get a new team here?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if I didn't. I'll likely be exempt from a lot of things that I would need a team for, but as long as I graduate in four years, I don't really care."

"I guess that's one way to look at it. Doesn't sound too bad as long as you make some friends along the way, and you've already made one!"

"Looks like I'm on the right track then." Raku smiled before checking the time on his scroll. "Well, I ought to get going. I have somewhere to be and I'd hate to make a bad first impression."

"Don't let me keep you! I should be in the shower now anyways..." Yang huffed while picking some food out of her hair.

"Well..." Raku chuckled as he very deliberately picked a stray bit of turkey off of his hand "It was nice  _meating_ you, Yang. I'll see you around."

The cheery blonde gasped in surprise, lilac eyes shooting wide open as they followed Raku's departing form. "I think I just found my new best friend."

Raku couldn't help but feel a bit of warmth from that.


End file.
